


Bloodlust: Chronicles of Aleksandr Vinter

by Crimson15



Series: Bloodlust [1]
Category: Vampires - Fandom
Genre: 1970s, Africa, Aftermath of Violence, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Cold War, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Gen, Gun Violence, Healing, Immortality, Mass Death, Massacre, Mild Gore, Oneshot, Purebloods, Regeneration, Soldiers, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson15/pseuds/Crimson15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crown Prince Aleksandr has had an interesting life. He had done things not allowed by Pureblood law. And he did it when the world was on its most delicate era, the Cold War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlust: Chronicles of Aleksandr Vinter

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I decided to write this separate from my main work, Bloodlust. For now it is a oneshot, but I MIGHT add more to it later. There is a lot of Aleksandr's life that I cannot write on my main story because it has nothing to do with it, at the most I might include some memories from it. Don't worry though, I will continue working on Bloodlust. I will continue working on it soon. I thought this would end up a short story, maybe 10 pages, but it is nearly twice.  
> Oh, I am assuming most people know who Aleksandr is, so I will not be going into detail who he is, or what a Pureblood is.

The 70s were a time of ideological conflict around the world. East vs West. Communism vs Capitalism. Totalitarianism vs “Democracy”. But to a certain someone it matter little, if any. The affairs and conflict of humans were little more than a game. The Cold War was a simple circus, full of entertainment.

 

The German Democratic Republic, more commonly known as East Germany. A country that has been divided for decades, punishment for the Second World War, but more of a pawn between two Superpowers. In a cafeteria, in East Berlin, an unusual looking handsome young man was sitting down drinking some tea. His pearly white skin, snow white hair and bright crimson eyes made gave him an extravagant look. And odd gazes from those around him.

“Berlin has changed since the last time I was here. For one, nobody is shooting at me.” Crown Prince Aleksandr II Vinter, the Pureblood Crown Prince. In other words, not a human. Far from it. A superior being. Smarter, stronger, and immortal. Purebloods, the ones that rule the world through the shadows.

“And it’s two different cities, in two different countries. Why do humans have to complicate things?”

“You could say it is human nature.” Those words with a heavy German accent were spoken by young, tall, blonde and blue-eyed Stasi officer. East Germany’s feared State Security. The gray uniform sent shivers down the spines of every East German.

“You are Stasi Officer Schwanitz, right?” Aleksandr asked, “wasn’t a KGB officer supposed to be with you?”

“Ja, Deputy Director Ivanovich will be with us soon. I just decided to arrive earlier.” The Stasi officer sat down on the chair adjacent to Aleksandr. “I am surprised the KGB is asking for help from someone so young.”

Aleksandr chuckled. The Stasi man was what in his mid twenties? Aleksandr was easily eight times his age. Almost two hundred years old. To human eyes he’s closer to seventeen years old.

“Simple, I don’t make mistakes.”

“Absurd. Everybody makes mistakes.”

“I don’t. No miscalculations, no errors. It is not my nature to make mistakes.”

“Then you must be a god if you are infallible.”

“Enough, Schwanitz. Stop pestering our friend.” Wearing a long, black trench coat, a brown hat, and carrying a briefcase was a broad Russian KGB agent. His face and thick accent made him an intimidating foe.

“I apologize, Deputy Director.”

“I am Vladimir Ivanovich, Deputy Director of East Germany’s KGB station.”

The Russian stretched his hand to hand shake Aleksandr, but there was no way he was going to do that. As if Aleksandr saw humans as his equal.

“Very well then, let’s get to the point.” The Russian placed his briefcase on top of the table, he opened it and took out some files. “The man you see in this picture,” he showed a photo of an African male wearing military uniform, “is General Jose Antonio Chiyembekezo of Angola. The country’s strongman.”

Aleksandr grabbed the files and read them. “If I had to guess, he’s the most effective general of the civil war. He asked the Soviets for aid; and now that he is winning the independence war he’s turning to the West, offering them concessions as long as he remains the ruler of Angola.”

“Correct.”

“And my role would be?” As if he had to ask, it is not the first time he’s been contacted by them.

“Moscow isn’t fond of helping others and then being pushed aside. We won’t allow him to betray us. We would like for you to dispose of him,” the KGB officers answered.

“Why me? I would think the KGB is up to the task.”

Director Ivanovich fixed his tie before answering. “Unfortunately the general isn’t a fool. He realized we wouldn’t sit with our arms crossed. He entrenched himself in an old Portuguese fort, protected by hundreds of troops. The risk is too high for our agents. Nor do we have the time to prepare a coup before he is bought by the West.”

Schwanitz was stunned when he saw Aleksandr actually contemplating the task, “we are not considering asking a brat to assassinate the general, right? It is absurd. He looks that he still needs his mum to take care of him.”

Aleksandr sighed, the human’s impudence annoyed him. “I’ve been taking lives since before you were in diapers,” now that he placed the German in his place, “I’ll do it, I’ve been bored. My price is fifty million pounds.”

“Deal. We will transport you to the country tomorrow. We will be waiting for you at Leipzig-Altenburg airport. Evening at six. Please be ready by then.”

“Of course.”

“With the amount of money you are charging you better. Disgusting that our wonderful socialist state is paying for a greedy brat like you.”

Aleksandr stood up, ready to leave, but not before chuckling a few times. “Socialism? Just another ideology. Capitalism, fascism, communism, my kind have no use for that. They are all the same, humanity’s arrogant and decadent ideologies. But you do have a point, I am used to a certain standard of living.” He pushed back his chair and started walking away, but not before saying one last thing. “I am a prince after all.”

“Comrade Deputy, are you sure about this? I don’t understand why we are sending him? With the money he is asking we could send an army.”

The Russian sighed, “that’s why I was asked by your superiors to bring you with me. There is still much you don’t know, and this is something the Stasi won’t be able to teach you. There are others that live amongst us. Beings superior to us. Little is known about them. And he is one of those beings. You won’t be able to find anything about him in the Stasi files. But believe me when I tell you he is worth more than the entire East German army. He can accomplish much more, far more efficiently. I have seen what he is capable of. Don’t worry, General Chiyembekezo is as good as dead.”

The Stasi officer was confused. What exactly did all that mean? “Others that live amongst us”? Could he be any more vague?

“As you say, Comrade Deputy Director.”

* * *

 

As agreed, Aleksandr was at the Leipzig airport. It was already dark, and peaceful. So quiet and calm. The moon was large, brightening the area, not allowing the darkness to engulf everything.

In front of him, just a few meters away, was the aircraft meant to take Aleksandr to Angola. An Ilyushin Il-76 cargo plane.

“I hate planes. Can’t stand being inside one those floating coffins. But it is either that or waste energy running all the way to southern Africa.”

The Ilyushin’s pilot lowered the rear ramp, allowing Aleksandr to get inside. And inside was another KGB agent, a tall and bald man. He would be the one to assist the young prince and inform him of any last minute detail.

 

The Ilyushin was flying thousands of meters up in the air, flying at over 750 kilometers per hour. Inside were the KGB agent and Aleksandr, each sitting down, the Russian adjacent to the prince. He didn’t fail to notice the young man looked rather uncomfortable. His eyes were closed while his arms were crossed together.

“Are you afraid of flights, comrade?” The agent asked.

“I don’t fear anything, I simply hate flying,” Aleksandr answered, “my kind are not made for flights. These high altitudes interfere with our oversensitive senses. Makes it hard to concentrate, that is all.”

“Well, do not worry, we are halfway through the Atlantic. A couple more hours and we will arrive to our destination.” He took out a map and showed it to the prince. “This is the place where the general is keeping control of half the country, Fortaleza Sâo Miguel. An old Portuguese slave fort. Built in the seventeenth century--”

“Spare me the history lesson, just tell me what’s important,” despite having a cool and serious attitude, flying irritated Aleksandr.

The Russian kept his cool, “since the general’s HQ is the fort itself, it is heavily guarded. Between two and three hundred soldiers. On top of the massive towers there are anti-aircraft cannons. And snipers. It is a formidable fort. And it surrounded by SAM turrets. We will have to drop you several kilometers away. I hope that will not be an inconvenience.”

“No, I’ll just run. Shouldn’t take me more than two minutes.” Aleksandr took out a cassette player from his pocket, connected a pair of headphones and placed them around his head. “Wake me up when we get there. I’ll relax in the meantime.” He pressed play and listened to some Wagner. The music he grew up with.

 

After a few more hours the Ilyushin was near the Angolan border. It was almost time to drop the cargo.

“Time to wake up, boy.” The Russian lightly shook Aleksandr to wake up him.

“If you ever touch me again I will make sure it is your last,” Aleksandr was awake.

The Soviet agent cleared his throat, “we will enter Angolan airspace in a brief moment. You will be dropped five kilometers away from Fortaleza Sâo Miguel. Out of the range of their old radars. And the SAMs. Remember, General Chiyembekezo is your only target. Once you take his life the mission will be over.”

He pressed a button and the aircraft’s ramp was lowering itself. “We will be waiting for you at an airfield in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.”

“Understood.”

The agent went to pick up a parachute backpack, “make sure you put this on tight…” to his shock Aleksandr was no longer inside the plane, “did he jump without a parachute? Is he crazy? We are more than ten thousand meters in the air!”

But no, Aleksandr wasn’t crazy. He simply didn’t care. Staying in the aircraft was driving him mad. To him jumping was the more sane option.

Aleksandr went down like a missile. His velocity increasing as he neared the Angolan rain forest. Going down headfirst. But just before he touched the ground he flipped, landing on his feet. He crashed with awesome momentum. Creating a crater several meters in diameter. As if a massive bar of solid steel crashed instead of a being of flesh and bone. But that was it. The flesh and bone of a Pureblood was stronger than steel.

He stood still for a few seconds, breathing, relaxing, waiting for his bones to go back _into_ his flesh. His legs were completely destroyed, but they were healing. It wouldn’t take long. His healing abilities were particularly stronger than most Purebloods.

“Good thing I can’t feel pain, or that would have sucked.”

Once his legs were healed he stretched them, stretched his whole body. He had to warm up before the killing started.

He looked up to the sky and saw a big, bright full moon. Its light shunned the darkness away. “Such a magnificent moon. I rarely get to see it like that back in Iceland.” The prince inspected the night sky, “it will be getting cloudy soon. That will help. Total darkness will serve as my ally. I guess I’ll wait in the meantime. An hour or so.”

Aleksandr leaned back on the nearest tree. There were so many trees, as far as the eye could see. The Angolan rain forest was brimming with life. Once comfortable he took out his player and listened to classical music. This time some rest would be possible, now that he wasn’t in the air.

The clouds did their job of hiding the Sun’s light being reflected by the moon’s surface. The rain forest was pitch black. The perfect turf for night predators. Perfect for the crown prince.

Aleksandr removed his headphones. He was rested, and his acute senses were back to normal. It was about time the hunting began.

With lightning speed the Pureblood ran. He was a blur. Running faster than the fastest car. Impossibly fast for the human eye and mind to process. The distance between himself and the fort was five kilometers, he covered half the distance in half a minute. It was a child’s game.

Aleksandr jumped atop a tree branch, he was a few meters away from the finish line. With knees bent and arms placed in between them, he studied the fort. It wasn’t that impressive, it was an old fort, probably twice as old as he was. There were only two guards protecting the main entrance, a large, heavy wooden door. The two African soldiers were carrying assault rifles. Security was quite lax.

Neither one of the men noticed Aleksandr, he was well hidden. All except for his bright, crimson eyes. But they dismissed it.

“It is so hard to see anything with his darkness,” one soldier complained, “I can barely see the trees in front of us.”

“Quit your complaining,” the other soldier demanded, “the general wants us to be vigilant. He knows the Soviets are planning something. They won’t sit back and watch as the general become friends with the Americans.”

“Alright. I hope this waiting around bring _us_ some reward.”

Aleksandr licked his lips in excitement. His fans were starting to grow, too. They anticipated the bloodbath. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what is coming to you.”

“The general always rewards those that--”

“Wow, this is one old fort. Great engineering.”

The guards were shocked, right in the middle of them was a young man, standing right in front of the door. They never noticed him, never didn’t even hear his footsteps. He moved like a shadow.

The two guards quickly turned and aimed their rifles at him, one of them asked, “who are you and what are you doing here?” But Aleksandr never acknowledged him, “I said what do you-- gah…” the man dropped his rifle, and he fell to the floor as he bleed to death. Aleksandr slashed his throat, never bothering to look at him.

The other guard reacted as he saw his comrade die a quick death. “You bastard.” He pulled the trigger, but Aleksandr grabbed the barrel of the gun, forcing the guy to miss.

Aleksandr bent the barrel, and grabbed the gun and hit the guy on the head, with such brutal force it killed him in an instant. All while his eyes were focused on the door.

The gunshots startled the guards inside the fort, “did you hear that?”

“Someone go outside and check that. Report any findings.” One officer ordered.

A few soldiers were running towards the door, when without notice the massive wooden doors fell on them, crushing them to death.

“Mother taught me to always knock before going inside,” Aleksandr said.

Two soldiers were going to fire at the intruder when they noticed their rifles hitting the ground, with their arms still attached to them.

The two guards screamed as their arms had been brutally ripped from their bodies. Leaving their shoulder bones exposed.

Aleksandr was behind them, his claws dripping with blood, “now, how about you lot entertain me?”

Dozens upon dozens of soldiers from the fort’s citadel went outside, all armed with rifles and other weapons. Seeing several of their comrades’ bodies lying on the floor they wasted no time in shooting at the strange, white-haired boy standing in front of them.

Despite hundreds of bullets raining down on him Aleksandr had no problem dodging them, he was far faster than a speeding bullet. The soldiers couldn’t even aim. Aleksandr appeared right in front of one of them, he punched the soldier under the chin, lifting him several meter, killing him in an instant. After he went for another soldier, jumping mid air and kicking the soldier on the chest, stopping his heart.

That was all he needed to kill, a good strike, not his supernatural abilities. Of course, a punch from him equal getting struck by a speeding race car. If he wanted the could kill them all with a thought, or have them kill each other, but no, he preferred getting his hands dirty. More fun that way, like a kid playing in the mud.

As the Pureblood prince finished ripping the heart of another soldier, a squad of several men fired at him, actually managing to hit him. They continued until their magazines were empty. But to their horror all of their bullets bounced off of him. Not leaving a single scratch. With skin harder than steel most weapons wouldn’t even faze a Pureblood, not even the legendary AK-47 that the Angolan soldiers were using.

Aleksandr smiled, “my turn.” He charged at them, slashing, ripping, tearing them apart, limb by limb. The soldier screaming until their last breath.

From one of the citadel's towers,  General Jose Antonio Chiyembekezo saw the carnage that was unfolding. He saw dozens of men being thrown around into the air and the thick concrete walls like rag dolls. The heads and other limbs falling to the floor were impossible to ignore. What he fail to see was who was causing it.

“Are we under attack?” The general asked, “is it the opposition? The Russians? Someone tell me something!”

“I am trying, general, but nobody from outside or downstairs is answering the radio,” one of the general’s officers explained.

“Try until someone answers, dammit.”

“Yes, general.” The officer picked up the radio. “This is Lieutenant Abdourahim, someone answer. Who is attacking? How many enemy forces are attacking? I repeat who is attacking? How many enemy forces are attacking?”

Aleksandr was surrounded by three tall piles of corpses. Many of them had holes were their hearts used to be, “come one, is this all you got? You can do better,” the moment he finished his sentence his body was pierced by bullets. Heavy bullets. There were dozens of holes on his chest. Aleksandr puked blood as he turned around to see what caused him damage. “Nice shot,” he said.

A soldier on top of a armored vehicle had shot him. The man was using a mounted anti-aircraft machinegun. He cocked the gun to fire again, when Aleksandr was just centimeters away from his face, on top of the heavy gun.

“12.7 millimeters, good job. Kudos for actually wounding me.” Aleksandr wasted no time to slice the man’s head off. The bullets holes were already gone.

“This is Lieutenant Abdourahim, someone answer. Who is attacking? How many enemy forces are attacking?” The officer asked again, this time someone managed to answer back.

“It is just one, lieutenant, we are being attacked by one enemy,” the man on the other side of the radion was erratic, the lieutenant could barely understand.

“What do you mean one enemy?”

“It’s a monster. We shoot at it, but we can’t stop it-- ah!” The man was killed before he could explained further.

The general looked outside through a pair of binoculars, it was true, he couldn’t see the enemy force he had expected, no, the only thing he saw was mounds of dead bodies, and a single entity standing in the middle of them.

It had only been a few minutes but over a third of the garrison had been exterminated. The young Pureblood failed to hide the disappointment, it hadn’t been as challenging or entertaining as expected.

“Fire!” An officer shouted. A massive, heavy tank fired its powerful round at Aleksandr. It surprised the prince so much that he didn’t dodge, he took the hit. The strike blew him away, into a thick wall, smashing it, most of the debris falling on top of him.

“Stay down, you devil.”

“Nice, really nice. I was not expecting to receive such a wound.” Aleksandr pushed the debris away. He referred to the fact that the tank round had blow away his right arm, all of it. Making him bleed torrents of blood, “as expected from a T-62. But you made one mistake, you used an armor-piercing round. Had you used a high explosive you would have blown me to pieces, even I would have a hard time healing from that. This,” Aleksandr pointed at his missing limb, “a day or two at the most.”

Aleksandr jumped on top the tank’s turret. The officer, whose head was outside the turret hatch, was paralyzed with fear, “you are the devil.”

“No, I am just a really bored demon.”  The prince pierced the man’s eyes with his claws, going deep, destroying the brain.

Then the prince used his sheer physical might to tear the turret away from the tank. The turret weighed several tonnes, but it wasn’t much he couldn’t handle. “Hello,” he said to the tank’s gunner and driver. He slammed them with the turret, squashing them like flies.

“Die you devil.” Another group fired an RPG rocket at the enemy. But Aleksandr caught it with his index finger and thumb. To the shock of the soldiers.

“You can have this back.” Aleksandr flicked the rocket at them. The rocket exploded and killed the lot.

Many terrified men simply dropped their weapons and ran for their lives. They couldn’t understand what they were fighting, but they knew they couldn’t kill it, nor win. So they ran, but the prince would have none of that.

Aleksandr grabbed one fleeing man by the ankle, and tossed him onto a wall, his body exploding on impact. “None of you are getting out alive. I don’t work that way.”

He went for the rest, slashing and ripping anyone that tried to get away. No mercy. He didn’t have to do that, his mission was to kill the general, but where was the fun in that?

After a few minutes he had killed the last remaining soldier outside the citadel. The only thing that remained was to empty the citadel itself, and kill the general.

 

“All outside forces had been eliminated, general,” the lieutenant informed. “We have less than forty troops inside the citadel.”

Outraged, the general threw a glass of liquor to the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces. “How is this possible? How can one person do this?”

“It wasn’t a person, general, it was the devil,” a poor, shaken to the core, soldier said. He couldn’t utter a word without trembling, he had been outside, but somehow managed to get inside before his life, too, was taken.

“What do you mean ‘the devil’?” The general didn’t seem to be as superstitious as his men.

“It has bright, red eye, they could see through our souls. We were deemed sinners, he killed them all. Taking them to hell. We couldn’t do anything, bullets just bounced from his skin. The devil has come, and it has come for _you_ general.”

General Chiyembekezo slapped his insolent subordinate. “Stop saying nonsense; now go outside and kill him.”

But the soldier instead aimed a gun to this head. “I shall see you in hell, general.” He pulled the trigger, blowing his brains out.

“Send every last soldier outside, kill that bastard!”

 

Aleksandr was standing in front of the citadel’s gate. He was about to open it when he felt something dripping down his smooth, white leg, “right, I forgot about this.” The wound where his right arm used to be was still gushing out blood. There was no other choice for him but to concentrate to force his healing abilities to accelerate, enough so that the wound would close.

“Losing too much blood will open my appetite, and I have no intention of sinking my fangs into some filthy African. Like hell.”

The door was smashed open, and Aleksandr went inside. No sooner was he received by a hail of fire.

“Don’t stop until that monster is no longer standing,” the officer ordered.

“Wait, where did he go?”

“Did he vanished--” the officer’s head was twisted 360 degrees. Aleksandr was standing on the roof, upside down, he used his left arm to kill the officer in such gruesome manner.

“Kill the bastard--” The soldier received a knee blow to the face, crushing his skull.

Another soldier was hit by an uppercut to the chin, while the remaining ones received blows to the chest.

“I thought losing an arm would increase the challenge, but I guess humans will always be humans.”

The Pureblood walked upstairs, he wasn’t far away from the general’s office.

The door to an equipment room was slowly opened, there was one soldier left. Making as little noise as possible he walked behind the demon. He was carrying a large machete. Once he moved close enough he charged, trying to caught the demon off guard. He lifted the machete, and dropped it down in one fell swoop, straight to Aleksandr’s neck. The machete snapped in two when it hit the demon’s neck. The neck was unscathed.

Aleksandr turned around, a bit surprised because there was still a soldier left alive.

When the soldier saw the demon was unhurt he tried to run away, but instead tripped, rolling down the stairs. The Angolan fell on his back.

The man seemed to be losing consciousness, but he fought. If he stayed inside any longer then he wouldn’t leave.  It would be his final resting place. The African soldier felt pressure on his chest, Aleksandr placed his foot on it. The soldier noticed his shoes covered in the blood of his comrades, “please, have mercy.”

Aleksandr increased the pressure, crushing ribs. The man twitched in agony, his lungs and heart were being pierced by his own ribs. The agony was too much for the soldier, the light in his eyes faded away.

The prince tilted his head, the man’s final words left him confused. “What’s that?” he whispered.

_I already dragged this long enough._

The last ones remaining alive were the general and his lieutenant. They were cowering away in his office. Their last bastion of defence against an enemy that had wiped their army from the face of the planet, in a matter of minutes.

“Go outside, protect me.”

“But general, I can’t.”

A soft knock on the door startled them. The Lt. aimed his pistol at the door, “stop or I’ll shoot.”

“That’s a good one,” Aleksandr chuckled and smashed the door open. “May we get this over with? The weather of this country does not suit me.”

“Kill him!” The general ordered his last remaining guard.

The Lt. did as told and fired his gun, but no bullets came out. It was nothing but empty clicks.

“Looking for these?” Aleksandr waived the handgun’s magazine. He had moved impossibly fast for either of them to see when he took it.

“You are the devil,” the Lieutenant gasped.

And the devil slapped him, with the back of his hand. The force sent the soldier crashing out the window, “that’s getting annoying.”

General Chiyembekezo could only remain petrified as he watched his last remaining guard fall to his death. He turned around only to see the creature responsible was no longer there.

“So that’s your plan.” Aleksandr turned around, sitting on a swivel chair, James Bond villain style, he only needed a cat. “You promised the Americans your country’s oil reserves in exchange for guarantees of you ruling this nation, plus weapons and supplies. Best way to an American’s heart is through oil, specially when it’s covered in blood.”

The ability to see through a human’s very subconscious, to know their deepest and darkest secrets. To violate their most precious and personal thoughts. Mind reading. A Pureblood’s most powerful weapon against weak-minded humans.

“Who are you? Wh-what do you want from me?”

“I am just someone doing a simple task. And as to what I want from you, well, I don’t want anything. It is the people you anger that want something from you. Your life.”

The general got on his knees and begged. “I had to betray them! The Americans threatened with increasing their aid to the rebels, with bombing my supply routes. They only made a deal with me because I have control over the oil fields.”

“Enough,” Aleksandr gave a frustrated sigh, “as if I cared about your frivolous and boring affairs.”

“If you spare me I can get my American friends to pay you double what the Russians did.”

“Tempting.” Aleksandr stood up, he pushed the intrusive desk out of his way, blowing into pieces. “I don’t do this for the money. There is no reason for me to do so. I’m a prince born and raised on a golden platter. I do this out of sheer boredom. And to spoil a little brother that means the world to me.”

There was no point in escaping. The general knew it. His legs didn’t answer. They were heavy, like they were made of concrete. But he couldn’t accept his faith. His entire body trembled, sweat permeated over his dark face. General Chiyembekezo’s faith was decided the moment the young crown prince decided to take the job. That was always the case. Always.

It ended quickly, as Aleksandr found no pleasure in suffering or torture. That was not like him. An efficient and ruthless killing machine yes, but not a sadist.

There wasn’t a heart beating inside Fortaleza Sâo Miguel. The slaughter had taken the Pureblood only a matter of minutes, that was all it was needed to end the lives of hundreds.

A Pureblood trained in the art of assassination was more dangerous than either of the Superpower’s armies. With skin and bones stronger than steel, claws that slash through tungsten, and diamond-hard fangs. Purebloods were perfect killing machines.

“Helveti. It has been decades since I had to kill so many soldiers, and a bloody tank. But I need to get back home and fix this wound.” Aleksandr ripped his shirt off, the right side had been tore away by the tank round anyways. The terrible and gross wound soiled an otherwise perfectly toned body, “explaining it will be a real pain in the arse.”

 

The Ilyushin was back on the air, its voyage back to East Berlin. And Aleksandr had the displeasure of being in it, again. But it was worse this time, he had lost a lot of blood from the loss of his arm. That weakened him, which affected his mood even more while being thousands of meters in the air.

Sitting on a corner of the plane’s cargo area, the Pureblood tried to rest. It was proving difficult, losing blood affected a Pureblood in an uncomfortable way. Hunger.

“Are you fine back there?” The Russian asked.

“Don’t get near me. I will never drink the blood of an African monkey, but if you think I am above sucking a dumb Slav dry, then you are mistaken. If you know what is best stay away.”

“If you say so, but have this anyways.” The Russian agent accompanying Aleksandr tossed him a thick, fur coat. “It is freezing up here, and you are half naked.”

The young man chuckled, “I’m a Nordic Pureblood, cold doesn’t bother us.”

“Cover that thing anyways, it looks grotesque.”

“I never thought I would hear someone calling my body grotesque,” unfortunately that wound made it so. It was a work of art ruined.

 

The Il-76 landed at the Leipzig-Altenburg airport, after many hours of flight. Once Aleksandr sat foot on land he hoped he would never have to got into those flying coffins again.

“I am starving. But first I should check how things are doing back home. My vacation here ended days ago. Father is probably upset.”

Young Aleksandr closed his eyes and concentrated. He was going to use his telepathic abilities to check his Icelandic home.

_“What?! They are in Denmark? Our villa outside Copenhagen, huh. Thanks Mikhail.”_

“Helvete. I guess eating will have to wait. Father should have already felt my presence, Denmark isn’t too far, and he’s strong enough to do so. I am going to get an earful.”

* * *

 

“Did you call for me, Comrade Deputy Director?” Stasi Officer Schwanitz knocked on the deputy’s office door.

“Come on in. I want to show you something,” the director said.

Schwanitz went inside as he was told, and sat down on the chair in front of the director’s desk. “What is it about? I was surprised that you called me here, it is not everyday than an inexperienced Stasi officer comes to the office of a KGB director.”

The director opened a file cabinet and took out a file, “I had agents take pictures of the end results. Since you doubted our decision to ask him for help I wanted you to see them.”

The East German took the file and opened it, there were many pictures, all of the revealed gruesome details of the event. They left nothing to the imagination. Soldiers without heads, without some limbs, with holes in their chests. He went through each and every single one, each photo more disgusting than the previous. It revolted the young officer’s stomach. Finally, the last picture contained the result of Aleksandr’s work, the dead general. The corpse had a hole on its chest, Aleksandr had ripped his heart out, his prefered way of killing. Easy, efficient. Less messy.

It was too much for him, so he put them aside. “That isn’t possible. It can’t be… How? What is he?”

Ivanovich got out a bottle of vodka from a cabinet on his desk, he offered some to the German, but he refused, more for him.

“You have never seen death before?” Ivanovich asked after drinking his liquor.

“Nein. I saw a lot during the Stati training, but never something like this,” Schwanitz answered.

“I have seen far worse things. I am a veteran of the Great Patriotic War, I saw many fellow comrades die during the Nazi invasion,” Ivanovich stood silent for a moment, remembering a violent past that scarred him, “oh but you want to know what Aleksandr is. Right? That is hard to explain.”

“I just want to know the truth, that is all. You mentioned I wouldn’t find anything about him in the Stasi files. I tried, but was shocked when I found nothing. He says he’s a prince, so why?”

“You will find nothing about him, his family or his kind in any file from any country. Except for some vague details. They don’t mess with these Purebloods. Even Stalin was cautious.” The Russian placed his arms on his desk and moved in closer. “But I do know about, well certain things. I won’t tell you much, but enough to satisfy your curiosity.”

That was all he wanted. To know who and what Aleksandr was. Nothing more.

Ivanovich took out another photo, but this time from his pocket. This was personal, “look at this.”

Schwanitz took the picture. It was an old black and white photo, it had wear and tear from the passage of time. As Schwanitz inspected it his eyes grew wide. There was no way… were his eyes deceiving him?

“I’ve known Aleksandr for a long time, not as a friend, more as a comrade in arms. For me, and hundreds of others, he wasn’t just Aleksandr, he was Colonel Aleksandr of the 5th Guard Regiment, 74th Rifle Guards Division, 8th Guards Army. My commander during the Second World War.”

The German Stasi officer looked at the KGB director with disbelief, “impossible. The war ended more than thirty years ago. He doesn’t look like his eighteen yet!”

“Believe it, Schwanitz. In case you were wondering, yes, he is not human. It is not feasible for a human to do what he has done. I saw him do things far more impossible than what you saw in those pictures, boy. His hands are covered in much of your fellow countrymen’s blood.”

Schwanitz was trembling. His mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the information. “Is that all you can tell me?”

“Da, Comrade Schwanitz. I know nothing more about his personal life, nor can I speak about what little he mentioned, due to the respect I have for him.”

Both of them stood silent for a few minutes. Ivanovich gave Schwanitz time to swallow all the information. Until Schwanitz broke the silence. “Comrade Ivanovich… did we made a deal with the devil.”

Ivanovich smiled a sly smile, “I believe we have, comrade. We all have.”

* * *

 

“Aldrik, Aleky was supposed to be back from East Germany two days ago.”

Alaia, Aleksandr’s mother, worryingly walked back and forth across the living room. Days had gone by since she heard anything from her eldest son.

“Alaia my love, you must stop worrying, it is not good for you,” Aldrik, Alaia’s husband and Aleksandr’s father, said. Aldrik ran his hand across her long, white hair. He stared at her purple eyes with intensity, “my dear, there is no need for you uneasiness, Aleksandr isn’t a child, he can take care of himself, his prowess surpasses than of mine. So do not worry.”

The woman considered the most beautiful of all female Purebloods moved away from him, she was more upset. “Aldrik, you cannot tell me not to worry. I am his mother of course I am worried. It doesn’t matter how old he is, or how powerful he is, I will worry for the child I carried in my belly for twelve months.”

If anything Aldrik felt like a fool. Try telling a mother not to worry, what was he thinking. She always did. Aleksandr made her feel that way too often.

“Where is he, Aldrik?”

“I do not know. Out of my reach. Outside Europe. He must be, if I am failing to feel his presence on the continent. I tried many times without success,” it killed him to see his beloved wife upset, “but I am sure, one hundred percent, that he is well. There is nothing and no one that could harm him.”

Alaia jumped into his strong arms. She loved being comforted by her loving husband. Never failing to make her feel better.

She looked at him with loving eyes, he replied with the same love. Both of them got closer, a passionate kiss would calm their nerves, no need to rush things, though. Love can’t be rushed.

And yet, Aldrik stopped just short of kissing the woman that has made the past thousands years his happiest. “What?”

“Aldrik, do you feel that?”

Both lovers moved to the kitchen at an incomprehensible speed. Aldrik opened the kitchen’s door, and to their surprise Aleksandr was inside drinking a bottle of bloodwine, with a few empty ones on the counter.

“Aleky,” Alaia was relieved to see her son back home.

Aldrik appeared upset, “son, you are back.”

“Good evening Mother, Father. I would have said something, but you both got too lovey dovey and that grosses me out,” what child likes to see their parents make out, “And I was starving.”

Mother was about to hug her son, but Aldrik stopped her. “Aleksandr, what do you think you are doing? Your stay in East Germany ended days ago, and yet you remained silent. Where were you that couldn’t find your presence?”

“I wouldn’t be the strongest Pureblood if you could find me whenever you pleased, now would I?”

“Aleksandr, enough with your games, what were you doing and where?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything regarding my pastimes. I was on vacations and that is all the two of you need to know.” He started to walk away.

Aldrik was without words, his son’s arrogance was mind-boggling. But not surprising, not in the least.

“Aleky, as your parents we have a right to know of your whereabouts,” Alaia, unlike her husband, spoke to their child with a softer and caring tone.

“Your mother is right, son. You cannot leave us in the dark. The same goes for your brother,” Aldrik’s tone took on a more paternal side, “Rin misses you. It breaks his heart when you don’t talk to him. You know his telepathy isn’t strong enough to reach you.”

Aleksandr turned to face his parents, the fury in his eyes threatened to explode. “No! I will not allow you to use my brother to guilt me. You will not use him against me! That is something I will never forgive you.”

Without a doubt he had crossed the line, Aldrik knew it well. It was despicable to use Rin like that, but it was too late, nor had there been another choice.

Alaia seemed to not think the same. She placed herself in the middle of both her precious guys. “Enough you two, Rin is asleep, and I will not have him find both of you arguing like animals.”

Aleksandr wasn’t in the mood to argue with his parents. Almost 20 hours of total air traveling had made him weary. The prince walked away, seeing no need to further the discussion.

But Aldrik would have none of it. He followed his stubborn son. “You need to stop acting like a disobedient teenager and act like the prince you are supposed to be.” Aldrik grabbed Aleksandr’s right arm coat and pulled on it, and to his horror, and that of Alaia, his wound was revealed to them.

Alaia covered her mouth, to see her son with such a wound was hard for her to bear. “Aleky, what happened to you?”

Aldrik’s reaction was the same, but more upsetting, “for heaven’s sake son, what were you doing? Tell me right now, what were you doing?!”

The young Pureblood sighed a frustrated sigh, this was the last thing he needed right now. The only he wanted was to go to sleep, “It was an accident from a spar. That’s it.”

“Do not take us for fools, son. That is not the type of wound you get from a Pureblood’s claws,” Aldrik soon came to a conclusion of how his son might have gotten such a wound, “were you doing mercenary work again?”

That surprised Aleksandr. _Again_? “For how long have you known?”

“That knowledge is recent.”

Alaia failed to understand what was happening, “what are you two talking about? What mercenary work?”

“Are you going to explain your mother or shall I do that?” Aleksandr did not reply, “Alaia, our son has been playing mercenary for the humans, doing their dirty work for them.”

“Aleky, is that true?” But she only had to only look into his dead serious eyes to find out, “why son?”

“Because I’m the best there is. Because I can get the job done without problems. And because I am painfully bored,” he said matter-of-fact.

“You know it is forbidden for us Purebloods to interfere in human affairs.” That was not an understanding amongst Purebloods, but an actual law written millennia ago.

“I wasn’t ‘interfering’ per se, just some innocent meddling. An assassination here, spying over there, maybe one or two overthrowing of governments. But nothing that would throw the bipolar balance of power the humans placed themselves in.”

“That is besides the point--”

“If it makes you feel better, I killed nasty man, one of those African warlords.”

“That is irrelevant, you could have killed Adolf Hitler himself, and your mother and I would have still disapproved of your actions.”

“You could get yourself hurt. Look at you,” his mother cried.

“Please, I have suffered far worse that this little scratch. Besides, why do you worry, I can’t die, remember? I am our people’s freak! And bloody monster that can’t be stopped or killed. Just a simple demon--”

Alaia threw herself to her son, hugging him with the love and warmth only a caring mother could display. “You have no idea how much those words break my heart. You are none of those things. You are a wonderful and beautiful boy, what happened to you in the past no longer defines you today. Please, don’t let me hear you say that again.”

“Mother…”

“Alaia you spoil him too much. I cannot ignore what he did. A few moments ago you were worried sick.”

She took his hand and said, “Aldrik, I am just glad he is back home. The only thing I want know is to go to bed, I am too exhausted.”

Aldrik could feel her warm hands on his. He looked deep into her tired and wet eyes, he couldn’t say no to her. “Alright, let’s go to bed. We can continue this discussion in the morning, when we are relaxed.”

They both went upstairs, holding hands tighter now.

_“You can’t keep doing this to your mother, son. You are hurting her too much.”_

_“I know, that was never my intention.”_

_“Go to sleep, and make sure you apologize to your brother. You also made him shed tears.”_

_“I will, Father.”_

Their mind conversation ended before Alaia noticed it.

 

Little Prince Rin was sitting on his bed, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. The poor boy woke up from his deep sleep, “mm… what was all that noise? Huh, that smell.” Rin sniffed the air, his acute nose caught a familiar scent. “Big Brother is back!”

Rin got out of bed and ran to the hallway. It was late at night, so he knew his brother was in his room. He reached the room and was about to knock, he knew that it was inappropriate to enter his brother’s room without knocking, but the door was ajar, and he heard voices coming from inside. Several of them.

“Mind if I eat you a bit?” Aleksandr asked with a hint of seduction.

The young girl stuttered to answer, “y-yes, Your Highness.”

Rin knew what he was about to do was wrong, but curiosity took the better of him. He peeked! The young prince saw his brother biting one of the maids. There were two more laying on the floor, meaning Aleksandr already sucked their blood.

Aleksandr finished his third meal, dropping the dizzy maid to the floor. He licked the blood running down the corner of his lip. “Thanks, you three may retire.”

The three maids stood up, with some difficulties, they bowed their heads and left his room. All of them were to weak to notice the little boy standing beside the door.

Rin was about to go inside when he gasped, he had noticed his dear brother was missing an arm.

Aleksandr was facing his large mirror, “it wasn’t Pureblood blood, but it will have to do.”

He concentrated, what he was about to do would require every ounce of energy in his body. Accelerating his healing abilities was no easy task, even for a Pureblood of his prowess.

A skeletal arm popped out of his shoulder, stretching until it was at his arm length. “I hate doing this shit.” The bone was soon covered in nerves, muscle and tissue wrapped themselves around the nerves, sealing them off. Blood soon gave it life. His right arm was back on, back to normal, and no scar. As if the arm had never been lost to begin with.

The crown prince twisted his shoulder, he made arm rotations, even flexed his arm, making a baseball size bicep. His perfectly toned and muscular body was once again a masterpiece.

“Good as new. I am glad because I find no pleasure with my left arm.” Aleksandr sat on the bed. “I am hungry again. It might have been quick, but it took a lot of effort. But sleep is more important.”

Rin was horrified, he’d never seen his brother with a wound like that. And yet, he couldn’t help but be amazed by the ease in which his brother healed. It seemed the list of limitless talents his older brother got longer.

“Rin?” The little boy jumped when his brother called him. “You know it is not nice to spy on your big brother, right? Come inside.”

Rin obeyed, shame forced him to look at the ground, “I am sorry, Big Brother.”

Aleksandr wasted no time and hugged his brother. “No, the one who is sorry is me. Forgive me for leaving you in the dark, for not talking to you for the past couple of days. You don’t deserve that from me.”

“No Big Brother, I know you wanted to enjoy your vacations. But I am glad you are back home. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Rin.”

Aleksandr could see the happiness in his brother’s eyes, but he could also see a hint of sadness. A sadness due to missing the man he loved and admired the most. It pained Aleksandr’s heart when he made his beloved little brother sad.

“What happened to your arm?” Rin asked as he used his fingers to brush his brother’s new arm.

“It was an accident. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing,” Aleksandr couldn’t tell his brother. He couldn’t find it in himself. Nor could he lie to him. It would turn into another secret, one of the many he already had.

“I see,” that was all the young boy expressed. He knew there was more, but he knew his brother gave that vague answer for a reason. So he would not pester him for details.

“Don’t worry about the idiocy of your brother.”

Rin bit Aleksandr’s recently grown arm with his tiny, yet razor sharp, fangs.

“Are you hungry?” Aleksandr was amused by his brother’s sudden attack.

Rin released the arm, his fangs were covered in his brother’s delectable blood. “Not really, I was curious. Your arm feels different, though.”

“That isn’t surprising. It is new. It is not everyday I lose an arm. Give it a few days and it will like nothing happened.

“I am just happy you are back with me, with us.”

“Me too, little brother. Me too.”

For the past 20 years he had worked as a mercenary for both East and West. Killing anti-communist leaders for the Soviets, overthrowing governments in the Middle East and Asia for America, eliminating independence movement commanders for the French and British, who were desperately trying to save their moribund empires. And much more. It was obvious that couldn’t continue. And the reason for that was standing right in front of him.

“Rin, I promise you I will never leave you like that again. You are the most important person in my life. I love you more than anything else. That you can always count on.”

Rin smiled, those kind words from his brother brightened everything for him, “I love you too, Big Brother. And you are also the most important person. You are the best big brother anyone can have.”

“Next time we will both go on vacation, anywhere you want.”

“I would love that.”

“How about we sleep together?”

Rin jumped into the bed. He seemed more excited than sleepy. The boy rested the his head on the pillow. His bright purple eyes stared at his brother. While Aleksandr’s crimson eyes stared at him.

“Good night, Rin.”

That was all Aleksandr needed to rest after a day of stress. To be with the sweet boy that meant the world to him.

“Good night Big Brother.”

To be with the brother he couldn’t be away from. No matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> I am more than happy to read constructive criticism. Or answer any questions you may have. Any flames or insult will be read and ignored. If this offends you for any reason, please DO NOT bother telling me, I have no interest in your sensitivity. Otherwise, enjoy!


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